Thursday daylight made the sex conversation no less intimidating, though both of us wore enough clothes to think. We chose a quiet table behind the campus health center instead of my apartment; neutral space prevented desire from answering before either person finished asking.
Nina wore a loose black sweater, plaid skirt, plus opaque tights that made my claim concerning decision-friendly clothing immediately unreliable. I wore the cream overshirt above a plain black shirt, keeping every button fastened without pretending the outfit removed attraction.
"We can postpone this if the location feels clinical," I said, placing the shared note between our drinks without opening it yet.
"The clinic sells terrible tea," Nina replied, tasting hers before making a face, "but I want the conversation today."
